For the Love of Grace
by Khaemera
Summary: Regulus Black must choose a bride so that he may continue his family's purebred line. His choice falls on Grace Murdoch. As Regulus delves deeper into the dangerous world of Voldemort's Death Eaters, how will their relationship handle the stress?
1. A Surprise Proposal

**I've always been fascinated with the lack of information on Sirius' brother, Regulus, in the books. A Slytherin and Death Eater turned willing sacrifice- Regulus seems to cry out for his own plot. Let me know what you think!**

Regulus Arcturus Black slouched in his chair and glowered at his parents across the kitchen table. "Mother, no. Please."

His mother, Walburga Black, raised one perfect eyebrow before speaking coldly. "Regulus, you will do as your father and I say. You are the heir now, and that comes with specific obligations. Siring your own heir is one of them. To do that, you must be married." She looked him over. "Now, sit up in your chair or I will beat you until you cannot sit for a week!"

Regulus resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. His mother threatened him at least twice a day, which was an improvement from when he was younger. A lot of her leniency had to do with the fact that his older brother, Sirius, had stormed out of the house at Grimmauld Place last summer, leaving Regulus as the sole heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. The weight of this responsibility rested heavily on his sixteen-year-old shoulders, and he now understood why Sirius had cracked under the pressure. He sat up in his chair, pulling his shoulders back and brushing his black hair from his eyes. "At least let me choose whom I marry, Mother."

If Sirius had asked that question, Regulus thought suddenly, he would have been beaten senseless. However, Walburga knew that her only remaining son was faithful to the old ideas of blood purity among wizards, and would only choose a suitable woman. She regarded him carefully, wondering if he was planning something. Sirius was always scheming to find ways to upset her and ruin what she and her husband, Orion, had worked so hard for. She didn't bother to glance at her husband. Orion knew who ran the household. She narrowed her eyes at her youngest son. "You have three days," she informed him. "I want the decision made and the betrothal announced before you go back to school for the spring term. The deal will be sealed, do you understand, Regulus?"

Regulus nodded. Three days was not a lot of time, but it was better than nothing. Excusing himself from the table, he headed up to his room to contemplate his new situation. He paused when he reached the landing on the stairs, considering the door on the left. Sirius' room was emptied of everything that made it his; he had packed his trunk and disappeared that day last summer without a word of goodbye to his younger brother. Regulus scoffed when he thought about his older brother living with his best friend, James- son of the Potters, a blood-traitor family. Sirius had always been rash and arrogant, and he had made his own future. Regulus missed his older brothers influence; he had always admired him behind a quiet mask of disapproval as Sirius fought their parents in every way possible: denying their wishes, defying convention, ending family tradition by being sorted into Gryffindor House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Blacks had been Slytherins for hundreds of years. Only Sirius was brave enough to be sorted into another House. And the company he kept! Granted, James Potter was a pureblood as well, but everyone knew the Potters associated with those witches and wizards whose blood was not pure. Remus Lupin was a half-blood; Regulus was sure there was something going on with the Lupin boy, he always looked ill, but there was no way to know for sure. The fourth member of Sirius' gang (who called themselves the Marauders) was Peter Pettigrew, a whining, bumbling creature best suited for crushing under Regulus' shoe.

He opened the door quietly, lest his mother hear him. No one was to touch Sirius' things; as far as Walburga was concerned, they were tainted by her oldest son's betrayal. As always, Sirius' belongings were scattered about the room, giving the impression that a tornado had just ripped through. Sirius' walls were covered with banners depicting the Gryffindor lion and photos of Muggle motorcycles and scantily-clad women. Sirius made no secret of his playboy reputation; he was well known among the girls at Hogwarts. Strangely, this only seemed to make them want him more. Regulus couldn't blame them. Sirius was handsome; he was tall, with broad shoulders and aristocratic features that showcased his high birth. His shaggy black hair was always hanging in his grey eyes, and his voice was deep and melodic. Regulus was quiet, and did not draw nearly as much attention at school as his brother did. He could pass for a younger version of Sirius, except he was small and slight, and not quite as handsome. However, he was not a bad-looking boy, and between his looks, his blood, and his parents' fortune, he was guaranteed a good match for his marriage. But who?

Regulus pondered this as he left his brother's deserted room and entered his own. His room was the opposite of Sirius'. Above his bed shone a painting he had done himself of the Slytherin snake in his third year. His room was neat and organized, a reflection of it's occupant's personality. Regulus was cold and calculating, like his parents, and he was glad to be rid of Sirius' hot blood and vibrant temper. Sitting at his desk, he pondered the situation he had gotten himself into. Three days to choose a bride. But who in the world appealed to him?

* * *

Grace Murdoch smiled down at her little sister from her bedroom window. "Not now, Wendy! I'll play with you in a moment!" The six year old girl laughed and disappeared around the corner as her older sister leaned back into her room, pulling the window closed as she did. Grace was a slight girl of sixteen, dark-haired and pale, with long fingers and a slim waist. A dusting of freckles danced across her nose, and her high cheekbones were an expression of her good breeding.

Grace sat back down at her desk and considered the letter she had been writing. Mary Llewelyn, another girl in her year in Slytherin House, was in Wales for the Christmas holidays, visiting her parents. She had described the countryside in her last letter to Grace, and it sounded lovely. After deciding that her letter was finished, Grace signed her name with a flourish and rolled the parchment up into a scroll. Whistling, she waited for her barn owl to come fluttering down from his perch on her wardrobe. She tied the letter to his leg with a piece of string, taking him to the window, which she opened again before setting him free to deliver her note. She hoped Mary wrote back soon. The holidays were dragging on, and Grace was ready to return to Hogwarts. She thrived on gossip and laughter, and found both in large amounts at the school.

Staring dreamily out the window, her head in her hand, it took her a moment to realize that a small, black blob was headed her way through the sky. She stepped back, allowing the owl to land on her desk, scattering her papers all over the floor of her room. She frowned at the animal. "My parents are downstairs."

The owl gave a baleful hoot before swooping out of the room towards the stairs. A moment later, she heard her mother calling her name. "Grace!"

"Coming!" She straightened her robes and hurried down to the drawing room. Her mother and father were sitting side by side, both of them glowing with pride. Grace raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You know better than that," her mother admonished.

Grace sighed. "Mother, what has happened?"

Her mother exchanged a grin with her father before facing her again. "We've just received an owl from Walburga Black."

Grace waited in silence. The Blacks were a very old pureblooded wizarding family. They were known for marrying among themselves in an attempt to keep the bloodline pure. Walburga and her husband, Orion, were cousins. She supposed that's what made the old bat so crazy. All the inbreeding.

Her father reached over and grasped her mother's hand. "Grace, Walburga has proposed a match between you and her youngest son and heir."

"Regulus?" Grace had seen him a few times over the years, mostly at pureblood gatherings. Purebloods represented high society among wizards, and the Blacks were deeply rooted in the aristocracy. Regulus, like his older brother, Sirius, was handsome. He was well-mannered. Due to Sirius' defection from the family, he stood to inherit the Black fortune. It was a better match than Grace could have hoped for. The Murdochs were a branch of the Lestranges, and remained on the fringes of pureblood society. A marriage between herself and the Black heir would increase her family's standing and her own personal fortunes. However, Grace wasn't sure how she felt about agreeing to marry someone she barely knew.

Her mother must have read her thoughts, because she said simply, "Grace, your father and I are not asking your opinion on this. We have already sent a reply owl to Walburga telling her how grateful we are for her offer." She smiled at her oldest daughter. "You'll go so far, darling."

Grace forced a smile onto her face. There were worse options. She could be forced to marry Lucius Malfoy, or one of her own Lestrange cousins. And Regulus was the one remaining son who was loyal to their way of life. She would never be ostracized the way Sirius had been. She nodded. "As you wish, mother," she concurred.

Mrs. Murdoch smiled. "Good. Now, your sister has been calling for you to join her for several minutes now. She's in the gardens. For goodness' sake, go entertain her and have her stop that racket."

Grace curtsied. "Yes, ma'am." Turning, she left the drawing room to find her sister.


	2. An Important Announcement

**I've tried to portray Regulus the way I think his character would have been; with Sirius as an older brother, it would probably have made Regulus a quiet, unassuming boy with low self-confidence. His pride in his pureblood ancestry is the only spark of passion in his personality. Or so I imagine. :) Of course, his love for Grace is a completely new feeling for him, as we will see. Please read and review! XOXO**

Two days later, Grace smoothed the soft silk of her powder blue dress robes, marveling at the way they clung to her frame in all the right places. Her dark hair was swept back in an elegant chiffon, a few stray curls falling alongside her face. She was elegant and graceful in her heels, pinning her mother's pearl studs in her ears. It was the day of the party announcing her engagement to the youngest Black boy. She was nervous; what if he changed his mind? What if his parents decided the engagement wasn't in their best interest?

She sighed and checked her reflection in the mirror one last time before exiting her room and heading for the main staircase. She could hear voices in the drawing room as her parents entertained the majority of pureblood aristocratic society. Regulus was down there, in the crowd, waiting for her appearance. She took a deep breath. There was no going back.

Regulus stood beside his father, sipping champagne from a crystal goblet. The best of pureblood society mingled around him, their voices mixing to form a low buzz that filtered through the room. He did his best to wipe his sweaty palms on his black dress robes as subtly as possible. He was nervous. What if Grace didn't feel the same way? What if she refused his offer?

The whispering throughout the room suddenly stopped. He turned to see Grace standing at the top of the marble staircase, dressed in pale blue dress robes that fit her body perfectly. Her red hair was up, showcasing her slender neck. He swallowed. She paused at the top of the stairs, her dark brown eyes scanning the guests. Gliding slowly down the stairs, she held her head high, trailing one hand lightly along the banister. Regulus pushed his way through the crowd to meet her at the bottom step and brush his lips lightly across the back of her soft hand, as was expected of him. When he dared to look up, he was surprised to see that she was smiling. "Master Regulus," she acknowledged softly.

He grinned, feeling his nervousness dissipate under her warm smile. "Mistress Murdoch. And it's Reg, please."

She smiled, tightening her grip on his hand ever so briefly before letting go. "As you wish." She allowed him to lead her into the crowd to begin greeting the guests, mixing with the richest witches and wizards in all of Britain. She held delicately on to his elbow, following his lead as they moved from person to person, smiling graciously and talking softly.

Several minutes later, Orion Black stood at the front of the room. "Excuse me!" he called over the chatter of the guests. They fell silent as he found his son in the crowd and grinned at him. "I think it's time to make the formal announcement that you've all been waiting for." Appreciative murmurs filtered through the room as he held his champagne flute high. "I am pleased to announce the betrothal of my son, Regulus Black, to Miss Grace Murdoch."

Polite applause followed Orion's announcement, and Grace was relieved when everyone turned back to their drinks and gossip. Regulus' hand touched hers. Bending his dark head close to hers, he whispered, "Would you care to dance?" Grace was aware of the soft strains of a piano playing in the background. Smiling, she allowed him to wrap one arm around her waist, grasping her hand lightly in his as she placed her other hand on his shoulder. They began to move in time with the music, and soon others were following their example. Grace couldn't keep her eyes off of Regulus' as he smiled at her and spun her effortlessly across the floor in a stately waltz. They had been taught from birth how to behave in situations like this, and Grace didn't have to think about her feet as she automatically followed Regulus' lead.

"Why did your parents choose me?" she asked, as he turned them.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you not want this engagement?"

She shook her head. "It's not that. I've always known that my marriage would be arranged. I'm just wondering why your parents chose a girl from an obscure family for their heir."

He laughed, a deep, mellow sound. "They didn't," he told her, grinning. "I did."

"Why?"

Regulus considered her for a moment, before directing their movements so that they moved steadily closer to the door into the garden. When they reached the edge of the crowd, Regulus looked around to make sure that no one was watching them. No one paid them any mind as he took Grace's hand and led her into the dark gardens. He stopped by a tall pink azalea bush, turning to face her in the dim moonlight. He took her hands in his and smiled at her nervously. "Grace, I think you're beautiful. I don't care what family you're from. I remember seeing you at these types of functions, even when I was very young. Your smile is amazing. Since Sir- my brother- left, I've known that I would have to choose a wife before too long. I've noticed you at school. You're just…" He paused. Grace marveled at his refusal to speak his brother's name aloud, but decided to let it go. Regulus reached up and gently brushed an errant red curl behind her ear. "You're amazing," he breathed.

He leaned closer to her, and Grace didn't struggle or pause to think before his lips brushed hers. His kiss was soft, gentle. She marveled at her luck in finding a fiance that treated her with such reverence and kindness. One of his hands moved up to cradle her cheek, and she leaned into his slim frame. Finally, before the kiss could become anything more than appropriate, he pulled away. She could see his face by the light spilling from the open door; he was blushing. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you chose me," she whispered, before turning and heading back inside, leaving Regulus to stand alone in the garden. He touched his fingers to the place where she had kissed him, a bewildered smile on his handsome face.

The rest of the evening went well, and before she knew it, Grace was saying goodbye to Regulus and his mother and father at the door. As Walburga and Orion chatted with her parents, Regulus bent and kissed her hand, as he had at the start of the evening. He smiled at her mischieviously. "May I come to visit you soon?" he asked.

She nodded. "Of course. I would like that."

"Would you?" he asked softly. Regulus had always been overshadowed by his exuberant and confident older brother, and he couldn't believe his luck.

Grace smiled sweetly. "Very much," she assured him. Regulus dropped her hand and stepped back as his parents said their farewells to hers. He followed them obediently into the dark twilight, and Grace found herself looking forward to the next time she would see him.


	3. Muggles, Mudbloods, and Money

**I wanted to provide a glimpse into the daily life of purebloods. Well, the daily life of purebloods as I imagine it. It must be a lot like Victorian England. :) Please R&R!**

Regulus came to call on Grace the evening before they were to return to Hogwarts. She met him at the door, smiling as he bowed deeply and kissed her hand. She showed him inside the great hall of her family's home, calling for her parents to come and greet him. They did so with enthusiasm. Regulus was flushed with happiness as they sat down to dinner, Grace beside him. As the house elf, Minnia, served dinner, Grace reached over and slipped her small hand into his. She couldn't help but smile as he flushed, avoiding her eyes. His palm was warm and sweaty. Perhaps she would be one of the lucky ones whose marriage was more than just a dynastic decision.

"Regulus, how do your parents feel about this Lord Voldemort and his followers?" Grace's father asked kindly as he cut his meat.

Regulus nodded. "Our family is a very old one, sir. My parents are in agreement with Voldemort's policies."

"What are his policies?" Grace asked, before she could stop herself. Her mother gave her a look of disdain from her place at the other end of the table, but remained silent. Women, like the children they bore, were expected to be seen and not heard in polite company.

Regulus seemed unfazed by her interruption. "He feels that it is our right as purebloods to maintain control over those who would taint our communities with their ties to the Muggles. Muggle-borns do not have a drop of wizarding blood in them, and it is a monstrosity for them to marry into our families." He smiled at her. "Which is why I chose a beautiful, pureblooded girl to be my bride." He squeezed her hand under the table.

"Is it true that Voldemort wishes to suppress the Muggle-borns under pureblood rule?" Grace's father continued.

Regulus nodded. "If the Dark Lord manages to take over the Ministry of Magic, Muggle-borns and Mudbloods will be forced to sign a register. Hopefully this means that we won't have to send our children to learn alongside them at Hogwarts." He used his fork to scoop up a bite of mashed potatoes.

Grace frowned. "He's trying to take over the Ministry?"

This time her mother did react. "Grace! Hold your tongue at the table!"

Grace looked down at her lap and fiddled with her napkin, feeling ashamed. Regulus squeezed her hand and shot her a shy smile.

"He is," he said gently. "His followers are known as Death Eaters. I plan on joining them as soon as I am old enough."

Grace's father shook his head. "There is quite a bit of controversy involving the Death Eaters and their behavior," he said slowly. "They have been known to cross some- ah, boundaries in their enthusiasm."

Regulus' face took on a haughty look. "Those are the ones who are not truly faithful to the Dark Lord. They use their position as an excuse to wreak havoc. There's nothing to worry about," he assured them. "Most of the Dark Lord's followers are able to keep their tempers."

Grace's father nodded and changed the subject to politics. They talked politely for a while. Once their plates were clean, he gestured to Regulus to follow him. "Care to join me in the library, Regulus?" he asked.

Regulus grinned. "Of course." He rose, throwing his napkin onto the table and winking at Grace as he followed her father out of the room.

Grace's mother fixed her with a glare. "You know better than to speak at the table."

"I'm sorry, Mother," she apologized. "It's just that-"

Her mother rose, nodding at the house elf to begin clearing the table. "Into the drawing room, if you please."

Grace trailed her mother into the drawing room, obediently picking up a half-finished piece of needlepoint and beginning to work. Mrs. Murdoch lit a small candelabra on the side table and began to read a novel, her half-moon glasses perched on her nose. The minutes passed slowly. Grace hummed quietly as she worked, guiding the needle in and out of the silk cloth. Finally, she gained the courage to look up at her mother. "Mother, do you and Father truly support Voldemort?"

Her mother frowned, opening her mouth to reply. Before she could speak, Grace's father appeared in the doorway. Regulus' slim frame hovered behind him. "Grace, Regulus has come to take his leave."

Grace put her needlework away and stood, smoothing her skirts. Regulus slipped past her father to give her a polite bow, gently kissing the back of her hand. Grace smiled down at his dark head, feeling a rush of adrenaline as his lips touched her skin. Regulus bowed to her parents, as well, thanking them for the opportunity to join them for dinner. He winked at Grace. "See you at school," he whispered, before the tail of his cloak whipped around the corner and out of sight.

Grace excused herself, only to hide in the shadows beyond the door. Her parents were talking quietly.

"I don't know about this, William-" her mother's voice began, but Mr. Murdoch cut her off. "Julia, this is an excellent opportunity for us, and for Grace. Sure, the boy's interested in the Dark Arts, but aren't most purebloods? He is the heir now, no longer the spare, since the Blacks' blood traitor son ran away from home. He will inherit his family's fortune. Don't you want to see Grace taken care of for the rest of her life?"

"She does seem to like him," her mother mused.

Mr. Murdoch scoffed. "That doesn't matter, although it only makes things simpler if it is true. This will bring us into the inner circle of the aristocracy, don't you see? We won't be simply hangers-on, using our connections to the Lestranges to wrangle invites to the best parties. If our daughter marries the Blacks' heir- we are guaranteed a permanent spot in the circle."

Grace turned away from the door, unable to listen any longer. She should have known about her parents' ambitions. It didn't surprise her that they were using her impending marriage as a springboard into society, but it still made her resentful. She thought of Regulus' hand in hers and knew immediately that she would go through with the arrangement, no matter what the consequences. She already cared too much.


	4. Return to Hogwarts

No sooner had the Hogwarts Express left the platform at King's Cross Station than Regulus came to find Grace in her compartment. She was sitting with her friend Mary, fresh from her trip to Wales, and another Slytherin sixth-year girl named Lydia. He lounged in the doorway, looking very much like his confident older brother. Grace studied his handsome features. That smirk must have been picked up from Sirius, too. She wondered if he was aware that his mannerisms reflected his closeness to his brother.

"Hello, ladies," he said, his mellow voice sending shivers down Grace's spine.

The other girls smiled, returning his greeting. Mary tossed Grace a wink from her seat across from her. Regulus acted as though he hadn't seen it.

"Grace, may I have the pleasure of your company?" he asked politely, holding out a hand. The other girls tittered as she rose, allowing him to guide her out into the hallway. "I'll return her soon enough," he assured them, sliding the door to the compartment closed.

He turned to face her, his grey eyes glittering. "You look lovely," he told her honestly.

Grace laughed, playing with a brown curl that hung beside her ear. "They're my school robes, Regulus," she teased. Dark green and silver trim accentuated her black school robes, the colors of Slytherin House.

He grinned. "The Slytherin colors are perfect on you."

She giggled, and he took her arm in his. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to introduce my fiancée to the other boys on the train." His eyes sparkled with laughter.

Grace shook her head, knowing he simply wanted to show her off. Distant connections to purebloods or not, the Murdochs were a respected family, and linking her name with his was bound to turn a few heads. She wondered how his older brother would feel when he discovered that Regulus was betrothed before he was. Sirius had a playboy reputation at the school, and Grace could not see him ever settling down.

She allowed Regulus to lead her down the hallway, pausing in the doorways of different compartments, making small talk with the Slytherin occupants they found inside. They ignored students from the other three houses; purebloods, with a few exceptions, only went to one house, and they would not be seen mingling with those whose blood might be tainted.

Regulus slid the door open to the next compartment and froze. Grace peered around him to see a mirror image of her fiancé lounging in his seat. Sirius was taller and more broad-shouldered than his younger brother, but their coloring was alike. They both had shaggy black hair and grey eyes that glittered. Their angular chins and high cheekbones gave away their pureblood status. Sirius' aristocratic features were currently twisted into a mask of extreme dislike. Beside him sat the Potter boy, his ebony hair sticking up at all angles and his hazel eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Grace looked across the compartment to take in the chubby, flushed boy that must be Pettigrew. Remus Lupin, the final member of the group, sat quietly in the corner, his nose buried in a book. Dark circles marred his handsome features beneath his sandy brown hair, and he was very pale.

Regulus lifted his chin as he locked eyes with his estranged brother. He spoke first. "Sirius."

Sirius smirked. "Brother." His eyes slid over to Grace, taking in his brother's arm wrapped securely around her slim waist. He raised an eyebrow. "Murdoch."

Grace nodded politely. "Black."

Regulus stiffened as Sirius looked Grace up and down, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. "Finally found a girl desperate enough to date the spare, Reg?"

Grace gave him a cold glare. "Regulus asked me to marry him."

Potter started in his seat, and Sirius' eyes widened for a split second before he regained his composure. "The new heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black is engaged, huh?" he asked, cocking his head and waiting for Regulus to nod in confirmation. "Gonna have a brood of little pureblood maniacs?"

Regulus' lips were set in a straight line. "I have to, Sirius, since you abandoned your duties to the family."

Sirius rolled his eyes, lounging back in his seat. Waving perfunctorily at the two standing in the doorway, he replied, "I don't regret for one minute getting out of that snake pit. Enjoy, brother."

Regulus took the hint and he and Grace continued on down the corridor. As soon as they were out of earshot, she turned to face him. "Is it always like that with Sirius? So strained?"

Regulus nodded. "He can't forgive me for being the one that managed to get along with the family. It's funny, though; I've always admired him for daring to be different, but that's the very reason he left."

Grace touched his cheek gently before taking his hand in hers. "Come on, let's forget about it."

Regulus shot her a grateful smile and allowed her to lead him back to her compartment, where he sat by the window, holding her hand and staring out at the gloomy Scottish sky.

* * *

Grace kept a close eye on the Black brothers as spring crept over the Scottish highlands. Sirius seemed resentful, glancing her way at breakfast each day in the Great Hall from his spot at the Gryffindor table. She was glad that he was a year older, and would not be sharing any classes with them.

Regulus seemed not to notice his brother's jealousy and went about his studies as he always did. He was clever, like his brother, but calculating, also. He was the quintessential pureblood heir, proud and deeply aware of the politics surrounding his position. Grace had noticed that he had begun spending an awful lot of time with several of the other Slytherin boys. Severus Snape, Mulciber, Avery, and Lucius Malfoy were among them. Malfoy was older than the other boys, a prefect for Slytherin House, and Grace couldn't make herself trust the pale haired man. He had a permanent sneer.

Regulus was also a member of Slytherin House's Quidditch team, his slight, sleek build making him perfect for the role of Seeker. Since the Seeker's job was ultimately to catch the Snitch, a tiny, winged, golden ball that flew through the air, he inevitably decided the outcome of any match. The game could not end until the Snitch was caught. Several times that year, Grace found herself sitting in the stands for hours, watching the players fly around the field on their broomsticks, Regulus circling high above everyone else. Regulus was athletic and loved Quidditch, and Grace couldn't help but be proud of him.

Professor Slughorn, the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, had successfully recruited Regulus to what was known among the students as the "Slug Club". Slughorn liked to surround himself with the best and the brightest pupils at Hogwarts, as well as those with the best political connections. Regulus, as a Black, had ties to all of the important pureblooded families in Britain, and was highly sought after. Between his new acquaintances, Quidditch matches and practices, and the Slug Club, Regulus did not have a lot of free time. When he did find himself with a free afternoon, though, he invariably spent it with Grace.

The two were often seen strolling the grounds, Regulus' arm looped around Grace's waist as they talked and enjoyed the burgeoning spring weather. They sat together at their table in the Great Hall, holding hands as they ate. Grace particularly enjoyed their times in the Slytherin common room. She and Regulus would finish their homework assignments as quickly as possible, and Regulus would settle on the floor between her feet and doze, allowing her to play with his dark hair as she read her novels. The two seemed destined for a happy marriage; something most purebloods could only dream of.

And so it was that summer came and term ended. Sirius graduated and disappeared from Regulus' life, spending all of his time with Potter and Lupin, fighting against the very forces Regulus seemed intent on joining in what was becoming known as the Wizarding War. Grace thought that perhaps Snape and the others had had an important influence on guiding her fiancé towards Voldemort. She kept her opinions to herself, knowing that Regulus would not appreciate a woman telling him what to do. But she worried.

**I've tried to portray Regulus the way I think his character would have been; with Sirius as an older brother, it would probably have made Regulus a quiet, unassuming boy with low self-confidence. His pride in his pureblood ancestry is the only spark of passion in his personality. Or so I imagine. :) Of course, his love for Grace is a completely new feeling for him, as we will see. Please read and review! XOXO**

Two days later, Grace smoothed the soft silk of her powder blue dress robes, marveling at the way they clung to her frame in all the right places. Her red hair was swept back in an elegant chiffon, a few stray curls falling alongside her face. She was elegant and graceful in her heels, pinning her mother's pearl studs in her ears. It was the day of the party announcing her engagement to the youngest Black boy. She was nervous; what if he changed his mind? What if his parents decided the engagement wasn't in their best interest?

She sighed and checked her reflection in the mirror one last time before exiting her room and heading for the main staircase. She could hear voices in the drawing room as her parents entertained the majority of pureblood aristocratic society. Regulus was down there, in the crowd, waiting for her appearance. She took a deep breath. There was no going back.

Regulus stood beside his father, sipping champagne from a crystal goblet. The best of pureblood society mingled around him, their voices mixing to form a low buzz that filtered through the room. He did his best to wipe his sweaty palms on his black dress robes as subtly as possible. He was nervous. What if Grace didn't feel the same way? What if she refused his offer?

The whispering throughout the room suddenly stopped. He turned to see Grace standing at the top of the marble staircase, dressed in pale blue dress robes that fit her body perfectly. Her red hair was up, showcasing her slender neck. He swallowed. She paused at the top of the stairs, her dark brown eyes scanning the guests. Gliding slowly down the stairs, she held her head high, trailing one hand lightly along the banister. Regulus pushed his way through the crowd to meet her at the bottom step and brush his lips lightly across the back of her soft hand, as was expected of him. When he dared to look up, he was surprised to see that she was smiling. "Master Regulus," she acknowledged softly.

He grinned, feeling his nervousness dissipate under her warm smile. "Mistress Murdoch. And it's Reg, please."

She smiled, tightening her grip on his hand ever so briefly before letting go. "As you wish." She allowed him to lead her into the crowd to begin greeting the guests, mixing with the richest witches and wizards in all of Britain. She held delicately on to his elbow, following his lead as they moved from person to person, smiling graciously and talking softly.

Several minutes later, Orion Black stood at the front of the room. "Excuse me!" he called over the chatter of the guests. They fell silent as he found his son in the crowd and grinned at him. "I think it's time to make the formal announcement that you've all been waiting for." Appreciative murmurs filtered through the room as he held his champagne flute high. "I am pleased to announce the betrothal of my son, Regulus Black, to Miss Grace Murdoch."

Polite applause followed Orion's announcement, and Grace was relieved when everyone turned back to their drinks and gossip. Regulus' hand touched hers. Bending his dark head close to hers, he whispered, "Would you care to dance?" Grace was aware of the soft strains of a piano playing in the background. Smiling, she allowed him to wrap one arm around her waist, grasping her hand lightly in his as she placed her other hand on his shoulder. They began to move in time with the music, and soon others were following their example. Grace couldn't keep her eyes off of Regulus' as he smiled at her and spun her effortlessly across the floor in a stately waltz. They had been taught from birth how to behave in situations like this, and Grace didn't have to think about her feet as she automatically followed Regulus' lead.

"Why did your parents choose me?" she asked, as he turned them.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you not want this engagement?"

She shook her head. "It's not that. I've always known that my marriage would be arranged. I'm just wondering why your parents chose a girl from an obscure family for their heir."

He laughed, a deep, mellow sound. "They didn't," he told her, grinning. "I did."

"Why?"

Regulus considered her for a moment, before directing their movements so that they moved steadily closer to the door into the garden. When they reached the edge of the crowd, Regulus looked around to make sure that no one was watching them. No one paid them any mind as he took Grace's hand and led her into the dark gardens. He stopped by a tall pink azalea bush, turning to face her in the dim moonlight. He took her hands in his and smiled at her nervously. "Grace, I think you're beautiful. I don't care what family you're from. I remember seeing you at these types of functions, even when I was very young. Your smile is amazing. Since Sir- my brother- left, I've known that I would have to choose a wife before too long. I've noticed you at school. You're just…" He paused. Grace marveled at his refusal to speak his brother's name aloud, but decided to let it go. Regulus reached up and gently brushed an errant red curl behind her ear. "You're amazing," he breathed.

He leaned closer to her, and Grace didn't struggle or pause to think before his lips brushed hers. His kiss was soft, gentle. She marveled at her luck in finding a fiance that treated her with such reverence and kindness. One of his hands moved up to cradle her cheek, and she leaned into his slim frame. Finally, before the kiss could become anything more than appropriate, he pulled away. She could see his face by the light spilling from the open door; he was blushing. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you chose me," she whispered, before turning and heading back inside, leaving Regulus to stand alone in the garden. He touched his fingers to the place where she had kissed him, a bewildered smile on his handsome face.

The rest of the evening went well, and before she knew it, Grace was saying goodbye to Regulus and his mother and father at the door. As Walburga and Orion chatted with her parents, Regulus bent and kissed her hand, as he had at the start of the evening. He smiled at her mischieviously. "May I come to visit you soon?" he asked.

She nodded. "Of course. I would like that."

"Would you?" he asked softly. Regulus had always been overshadowed by his exuberant and confident older brother, and he couldn't believe his luck.

Grace smiled sweetly. "Very much," she assured him. Regulus dropped her hand and stepped back as his parents said their farewells to hers. He followed them obediently into the dark twilight, and Grace found herself looking forward to the next time she would see him.


	5. New Discoveries

**Enjoy, lovelies!**

"You look lovely, darling," Julia Murdoch said as she stepped back and examined her handiwork. Her youngest daughter, Wendy, now aged seven, stood beside her, gaping at her sister's beauty. Grace was wearing brand new white dress robes, her hair twisted back in an elegant chignon. Her robes were heavy with strings of seed pearls, and her mother had braided more pearls into her hair. The majority of her beauty, though, came from the glowing expression on her face. Grace wanted nothing more than to become Regulus' wife.

Regulus had turned seventeen at the beginning of the summer, and was anxious to exert his new independence. The first thing he insisted on doing was marrying Grace. The second decision he planned on making- well, that could wait. He gazed at his pale reflection in the mirror above his dresser, flicking his ebony hair out of his silver eyes and smoothing his rich black velvet robes. The wedding ceremony was being held in the Blacks' backyard, a smooth expanse of open field and winding paths that enabled more than two hundred guests, representing the cream of society, to assemble. With one last glance at his reflection, Regulus headed out into the gardens to meet his bride.

After the ceremony, Walburga Black led Grace to her new room within Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. As she had married into the Black family, it was no longer appropriate for Grace to remain at home with her kin. Her father had brought over her trunks earlier that morning, and Grace found herself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar room. The furniture was expensive, with rich green velvet hangings on the bed and solid mahogany pieces. Grace unpacked her belongings and moved towards the window to gaze out on the green expanse where she had just given her wedding vows. In one day, her entire life had changed. She was now Mrs. Regulus Black.

As if he had heard her thoughts, Regulus cleared his throat from where he lounged against the doorframe. Grace had changed into her everyday robes, but he still thought she looked beautiful, like a Veela with brown hair. When she turned and saw him, she smiled. Regulus crossed the room to gather his young bride into his arms. She smelled like honeysuckle and rose water. Her empty trunk stood open at the end of the bed. Regulus thought to himself that he had better begin moving his important belongings into this room, which he would share with his wife.

Regulus pulled back from their embrace, and Grace looked up to see him smiling down at her. He was not as classically handsome as his brother, but the way he looked at her made her tingle all the way down to her toes. He adored her, she knew. And she couldn't help but love him back.

Ever so slowly, Regulus leaned in and brought his lips to hers. He hadn't kissed her since the night their engagement had been announced, choosing instead to maintain a gentlemanly distance until they were wed. Grace felt her heart stop before picking up a rhythm twice as fast as the one it had been beating before. Regulus was gentle, shy, and a bit awkward. She allowed him to wrap a hand in her luxurious curls. She stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. He picked her up and carried her over to the bed, laying her gently down on the rich coverlet.

After closing the door, he walked back over to her, stripping off his shirt and crawling into bed with her. Grace touched his chest with hesitant fingers, exploring his pale skin. He smiled and kissed her temple. "Nervous?" he asked kindly.

She nodded, biting her lip. "A little," she admitted.

Regulus pulled her close to him and began kissing her gently, trailing his lips along the ivory column of her neck and pressing soft caresses along her collarbone. She sighed and closed her eyes as he whispered, "Do you trust me?"

She allowed him to slide his hand underneath her robes, smiling at his questioning look. "Yes."

He kissed her on the mouth again, this time with more passion and less restraint. "I'll be gentle," he promised.

Grace pulled him to her after he removed her robes, needing to feel his skin on hers. "I trust you, Reg."

Regulus wrapped his arms around his new wife, thankful for his parent's capitulation to his demands that he be allowed to choose his own bride. Grace was kind-hearted, sweet, and obedient. He knew she had to have a calculating side- after all, she was a Slytherin. But he loved her all the more for it. And, placing passionate kisses along her skin, he set out to prove it to her.

* * *

The months passed quickly, with the newlyweds quickly growing accustomed to their new way of life. They had soon settled into an acceptable routine, and Grace dreaded their return to Hogwarts for their final year of schooling. But one could no more easily hold sand in their fingers than stop time, and the summer passed.

Regulus spent more and more time with his new friends, the Slytherins he had begun hanging out with at Hogwarts. One evening, the Lestranges, Malfoys, and Blacks all found themselves sitting around the dinner table, engaging in polite conversation. Grace openly studied Malfoy's wife, Narcissa, and Lestrange's wife, Bellatrix, as they ate. The two were Regulus' cousins- sisters, who, unlike the Black brothers, looked nothing alike. Bellatrix more closely resembled Regulus and Sirius, with a dark beauty hidden under hooded eyelids and a haughty look. She treated her husband, Rodolphus, with disdain. Narcissa was a thin blonde, obviously madly in love with her husband, who didn't seem to notice her.

After dinner, the men retreated to the library, Regulus' father joining them. Walburga made her excuses and disappeared into her bedroom; Regulus said she had never truly recovered from Sirius' desertion. Grace looked over at Narcissa, who looked concerned. "What are they doing?" the young blonde asked in a whisper.

Grace smiled at her. "They're going to sit in the library and smoke cigars all night, talking politics and money while congratulating themselves on being masters of society," she said, rolling her eyes.

"They're discussing the best way to deal with Mudbloods," Bellatrix cut in, using a terrible word for those who were born to Muggle parents. "I don't see why we don't just eradicate them." Her dark eyes glittered with malice. "That's what the Dark Lord wants to do."

"What?" Grace had heard of Voldemort, knew he did not like Muggle-borns and half-bloods mingling with purebloods, but had never heard a whisper of suggested genocide.

Bellatrix looked positively deranged as she grinned at the other women. "I'm all for it," she stated firmly. "We should just kill them all."

Grace frowned at her. "Bella, go sit with the men if you wish to talk of murder. Cissy and I aren't interested."

"Perhaps I shall." Bellatrix stood and smirked at them from her position over them. "You two will never understand," she hissed. "We cannot afford leniency. We must exert our power over them before they taint our bloodlines!"

"Get out!" Grace snarled, glad to see Bellatrix glide across the stone floor and disappear around the corner. "Good riddance," she said, half to herself, downing the last of her red wine.

Narcissa smiled shyly. "Want to go eavesdrop and see what they're really discussing?" she asked.

Grace returned her smile. "Sure." She led Narcissa along the dark hallway towards the library, secreting the two of them in the shadowy entrance to the study. They could barely make out the voices of their husbands in a heated debate.

"-should wipe them off the face of the earth, I say," Lucius was saying. Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

"You're going too far, Lucius," broke in Regulus' calm, moderated voice. Grace had to strain her ears to hear his words. "We can control our exposure to them through laws. There's no need to shed blood over it."

"But you do agree they should be subservient to us?" Regulus' father asked sharply.

"Of course. We are the aristocracy, after all. We have earned the right to command their respect."

Bellatrix's voice reached them next. "Oh, shut up, cousin. You were always too soft for your own good. Being kind to them won't guarantee their loyalty. Establishing statutes and registries won't be enough to keep them from intermarrying with us! They should be dealt with, viciously."

Narcissa shook her head at her sister's crazed rhetoric. She looked at Grace out of the corner of her eye. "What kind of world will my children grow up in?" she asked in a whisper. "I hope Regulus' logic wins out."

"It's not up to him," Grace countered. "It's ultimately the Dark Lord's decision. And you know as well as I that there is no backing out now. Whatever Voldemort decides to do, our husbands will obey."

Narcissa nodded, listening again to the voices in the room.

"-for the Dark Mark?" Lucius was asking.

"Soon," Regulus replied. "I don't want to frighten my wife by moving too quickly. But I do want to accept it."

Grace furrowed her brow in thought. She shouldn't have been talking. Now she was unaware of the context of Regulus' response.

A sudden shuffling within the room sent the two women scurrying for the dining room, praying that their husbands wouldn't notice they had been eavesdropping. Grace had just straightened her robes and fixed her hair when Bellatrix glided back into the kitchen, an arrogant sneer on her face. "Two frightened little chickadees, eh?" she asked nastily. "You should be thankful the Dark Lord is willing to help us regain our rightful place, not hiding in the dark pretending nothing is going on."

"That's enough, Bella," Lucius snapped at his sister-in-law as he swept into the room. He held out Narcissa's traveling cloak, and his wife obediently slipped it around her shoulders. "Come along."

The two couples left, Regulus' father escorting them to the door. Regulus walked up behind his wife and grazed the back of her neck with a kiss. "Ready for bed, darling?" he asked her.

Grace nodded, allowing her husband to take her hand and lead her to their room. She didn't speak as he made love to her, still deep in thought about the partial conversation she had heard. What had Regulus meant?

**A/N: God, I hate Bellatrix so much! lol**


	6. The Dark Mark

**I know this chapter is slightly shorter than you are used to, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Shoutout to MarauderBlood for the lovely review! Thank you!  
**

Their final year at Hogwarts flew by, and Grace was surprised by how quickly time passed. It felt strange to be at the school without Sirius glaring at them over breakfast or sneering in the hallways. Her meetings with Regulus were brief and hurried. She couldn't wait to return home.

Thankfully, as all things must do, the school year drew to a close. The young couple returned to the gloomy atmosphere of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Grace missed the welcoming hallways of Hogwarts, but was excited to progress to the next stage of her life. Soon, she and Regulus would be able to start a family.

However, Regulus had other things on his mind than having children. One night, as Grace sat in the windowsill working on her needlepoint in the waning light of the setting sun, her husband entered their room, looking flushed but pleased. He walked over to her immediately for a kiss, greeting her quietly. When he didn't explain what had him so satisfied, Grace let it go. He settled down onto her empty trunk and began scribbling what looked like a letter on a piece of parchment.

Grace sewed as dusk settled in, lulled by the monotonous sound of Regulus' quill scratching across the page as he wrote. His barely stifled yawn startled her out of her reverie. She looked up as he stretched his arms over his head and tousled his dark hair with long, thin fingers. He grinned at her. "Tired yet?" he asked teasingly.

Grace looked out at the setting sun and giggled. "Love, it's not even dark outside."

"I know." Regulus' voice was low in her ear; he had snuck up behind her. "But I want to go to bed with you." He stroked her neck languorously, tracing her collarbone with his fingertips. She tilted her head back to provide him with better access to her skin and was pleasantly surprised when he placed a warm kiss on the back of her neck. Regulus had always been very quiet and reserved; it still amazed her to see the passionate side of him express itself.

Regulus kissed her on the mouth and pulled back, stripping his shirt off with one fluid motion. He leaned into her, balancing his weight on her thigh. Grace closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, but froze when she looked down at his arm. There, branded onto the skin of her husband's left forearm, was the Dark Mark. An inky black snake writhed and coiled out of the open mouth of a skull. The symbolism was hideous and frightening, but powerful all the same. The skull aced as a gateway to the rebirth of a new, superior wizarding society, represented by the snake. The snake itself was coiled into the universal sign for infinity, suggesting that the new order would last forever. The black tattoo stood out in stark relief against the paleness of Regulus' complexion- even the color carried the symbolism of class and aristocracy. Regulus stopped kissing her, giving her a questioning look until he noticed what she was looking at. He sat back suddenly, as if her eyes burned his skin. She frowned at him. "Reg-"

He stood up. Grace noticed that he held his right hand over the Mark, as if to hide it from her. He began to pace, something unique to him that he indulged in whenever he was agitated or annoyed. She allowed him to stalk around the room in silence, waiting.

Finally, he spun on his heel to face her. "Well?"

She raised a perfect eyebrow. She could play the same games he could; after all, she was raised as a pureblood. "Well, what?"

His face had drained of all its color. "You've seen it. What do you think?"

She turned her head, refusing to meet his eyes. "I think you're a fool."

He crossed the room quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and twisting her around to face him. "I'm eighteen now," he said harshly. "I'm no longer in school. I can do as I please."

"Well, then, for heaven's sake, don't bother asking for my opinion," she spat, angry with him for the first time.

He slumped down onto the windowsill beside her, running his hand through his shaggy black hair. "This is an honor, Gracie. Only those in the Dark Lord's most intimate circle receive this Mark," he said, by way of an explanation. "I believe in everything the Dark Lord stands for," he continued. "We've been far too lenient with the half-bloods and Mudbloods. Someone needs to make sure they know their proper place."

"Which is where? Under your shoe? Or in a grave, Regulus?"

He shook his head. "I don't agree with Bella's calls to murder them all. That's ridiculous. Even Muggles would notice if we began a wholesale slaughter of our own kind; it'd break the Statute of Secrecy. But it's high time the aristocracy reasserted itself as the true masters of the wizarding race."

Grace bit her lip. "I won't argue with you, Reg," she said softly. "I agree with you. You must do what you think is best. But _please_ promise me you'll be careful. Some of those people, like Bella-"

"Bella's insane," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "She's always been an extremist. The Dark Lord wouldn't go that far. There's no need to, especially when we can control the Mudbloods through other means."

Grace nodded, reaching out to trace the Mark with her finger. Regulus watched her from under hooded eyelids. Finally, she looked up. "I trust you," she said simply.

Regulus smiled. He didn't need his wife's approval, but it made things so much easier. He leaned in to kiss her again. "I won't ever ask you to become involved in anything I do," he promised, his breath hot against her lips. "And I swear, Gracie, I will always keep you safe. No matter what."

Grace groaned in response and began kissing him passionately. Soon, she had forgotten all about the Mark as her husband caressed her skin. His touch was electrifying. She could never seem to get enough.

Later that night, as she lay in his arms, Grace resumed tracing the Mark with her finger. She hoped that it symbolized nothing more than adherence to a simple doctrine. She, too, believed in the supremacy of the pureblooded aristocracy, but she felt no desire to permanently ink her beliefs into her skin. She hoped Regulus hadn't gotten into anything that he couldn't get out of.

**A/N: I looked up the symbolism of the different aspects of the Mark- the interpretation is mine, not JK's. :) I thought it worked, though! Let me know what you think!**


	7. Family Quarrels

**I hope this chapter helps to explain the relationship between the two Black brothers as I see it, and how good of a guy Regulus really is, deep down. :) **

Regulus ducked as a red jet of light streaked over his head. A duel had broken out in an abandoned alley between a group of Death Eaters and those who opposed them, known as the Order of the Phoenix. Regulus refused to stoop to his cousin's level; Bellatrix was laughing maniacally while throwing Killing Curses left and right. But he would be damned if he didn't get out of this predicament alive. He had Grace to worry about.

He rounded the corner of a house, ignoring the shouted incantations behind him as the other Death Eaters indulged in the use of the Unforgivable Curses. Simply muttering any of the three Curses meant a lifetime sentence in the wizard's prison of Azkaban. Regulus knew better than to risk ending up there. He shot a Stunning Spell over his shoulder as he collided with a solid body. Surprised, he tumbled to the ground, his Death Eater mask and hood slipping off of his face. Looking up, he couldn't believe what he saw.

Sirius was standing over him, his wand pointed at his little brother's chest, and a look of pure shock and anger in his eyes. "Regulus?" he snarled.

Regulus scrambled to his feet, leveling his own wand at his brother. "Move, Sirius. You shouldn't be here. This isn't your fight."

"Damn right it is," his brother replied angrily. "What in God's name are you doing? Running around with a group of Death Eaters now? Fuck, Reg, I thought you had better judgment than that!"

Regulus sneered at his brother. "Leave me be, Sirius. I can make my own decisions."

"You know one of us has to kill the other," Sirius stated flatly, holding Regulus' gaze.

Regulus blinked and dropped his wand. "Guess I'm the one to die, then."

Sirius looked surprised. "I can't duel you unarmed, you idiot," he hissed. "Put your wand back up."

"No." Regulus shook his head. "Blood traitor or not, you're still a Black, Sirius. My loyalty is to our family."

"Your loyalty is to the pureblood philosophy," Sirius spat. "They're all a bunch of crazies, don't you get it? All the inbreeding- Reg, you've got to get out of there. Please."

Regulus shook his head again. "I can't, Sirius. I'm not you. I can't just walk away. I'm a Black, until I die."

Sirius was watching his brother with an expression of pity, oblivious to the battle that was still raging in the streets around them. "You're a fool, Reg," he said softly. "Brave, loyal, but still a goddamned fool."

"Sirius!" Regulus reacted instinctively when he heard Bellatrix's voice call out for his brother. He pushed him hard in the chest, the two of them tumbling into the gutter as Bellatrix's Killing Curse flew over their heads. "Go!" Regulus yelled at his brother. "Get out of here, I can't stop her."

Sirius vanished, Disapparating with a loud _crack_. Bellatrix ran up to where Regulus lay, sopping wet as he sprawled in the gutter. Her face was twisted into an angry sneer. "Blood is thicker than water, I see," she taunted. "Still worshipping the ground Sirius walks on?"

"Shut up, Bella," Regulus spat, standing up and raking his hair out of his eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you just let a blood traitor go free!" his cousin shrieked, barely containing her rage. "The Dark Lord will not be happy to hear about this."

Regulus sneered at her. "Gonna tell him yourself, Bella? Looking for some special recognition for acting the tattletale?"

"_Sectusempra_!" Bellatrix shrieked, slicing her wand through the air. Regulus fell to his knees, blood blossoming onto his robes as he clutched the wounds she had made in his chest. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him with intense hatred. "You are so weak, Regulus," she stated matter-of-factly. "If you truly believed in our ideals, you would have killed him. You deserve whatever punishment the Dark Lord chooses to mete out."

"Really?" Regulus snarled, taking the opportunity to Disapparate. Bellatrix shrieked with rage when she realized Regulus had vanished and turned back to the battle with a vengeance.

* * *

"Reg!" Grace looked up at Walburga's scream of dismay to see her husband on his hands and knees on the drawing room floor. His robes were covered in blood. She hurried over to him, kneeling beside him and stroking his hair back from his face. Her hands were shaking with fear. "Reg, what happened? Are you all right?"

"Duel with the Order in an alley," he gasped. "Got hit with a curse."

"Who did it?" Regulus' father snarled. "Tell me which of those traitorous, Mudblood-loving-"

"It was Bella, Father," Regulus said flatly. He sat back so Grace could peel away his robes to reveal the deep gashes in his chest. "She's such a bitch," he gasped, giving Grace a weak smile.

Grace shook her head. "Why? Shouldn't she have been training her wand on those idiots in the Order?"

Regulus looked away, staring at a spot on the carpet so intensely that Grace was surprised his gaze didn't burn a hole in the rug. "I saw Sirius," he answered, his voice barely a whisper.

Walburga Black's shriek of horror filled the room as she hurried to kneel beside her youngest son. "Sirius? He was there? Was he hurt?"

Regulus shook his head. "No, Mother. He's fine. He Disapparated before Bella could hit him."

Walburga seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Grace watched her cautiously. Surely her concern was for her loyal son, bleeding on the floor, and not the blood traitor who had torn her family apart? Regulus seemed to sense that he was not the focus of his mother's attention, and looked hurt. Maybe her reaction would have been different if Regulus had been wounded by one of the Order members, and not by his own cousin.

"You still haven't answered my question, Regulus," his father intoned, looking grave. "Why did Bella curse you? Tell me you haven't shamed this family in front of the Dark Lord!"

"I didn't!" Regulus spat. "I cornered Sirius. Bella was angry that I didn't kill him."

Walburga's eyes widened. "You let him go?"

"What was I supposed to do, Mother?" Regulus cried out in frustration, sitting on his heels and pushing Grace's hands away roughly as she attempted to mend his wounds. "He's my brother. My blood!"

"He betrayed our blood," Orion Black answered icily. "You should have killed him, Regulus. A real man would have done so."

Regulus cowered under his father's anger. He had been so sure that he had done the right thing- He stood to his feet, swaying a little. "Perhaps," he answered, holding his head high. "But what's done is done." He left the room, signaling for Grace to follow him.

When they were in their room and the door was closed, Regulus sank onto the bed, clutching his chest. "I couldn't do it," he murmured. "I _can't_ do it. I _won't_ do it!" He looked over at his wife, a maniacal glint in his eye that reminded her forcefully of Bellatrix. "Sirius is my brother. No matter what choices he has made, no matter whether or not I agree with what he chooses to believe in- he is still my brother!"

Grace sat beside him, pulling him to her and stroking his hair as he buried his head in her shoulder. "Shh," she whispered. "Of all people- I know you would have done what was necessary to protect our family, Reg. If it had been anyone else-"

"I would have Stunned them," he said simply. He sat up, looking his wife in the eye. "I can't do it," he confessed. "I believe our side is right in what we fight for, but I just can't make myself kill another person!" His hands balled up into fists as he seethed with frustration. "It isn't right! God, am I such a coward?"

"You are not a coward," Grace said firmly. "You are a decent human being who understands that it is wrong to arbitrarily take someone's life for the thrill of it. I am not ashamed of you."

He seemed to relax at her praise. "You think so?" Grace realized that her husband had spent most of his life in his brother's shadow, doomed to remain the spare as his brother inherited the family fortune and married into one of the best wizarding families in Britain. But the tides had turned, and Regulus was thrust into a position he wasn't prepared to occupy, a world he was not trained to exist in. He was trying to take on the responsibilities of an heir when he had never been groomed for the position, and was bound to question his self-worth as he struggled to fulfill his duties. She felt a surge of sympathy for him.

Grace leaned in and kissed his lips softly. "I know so."

He managed a weak smile and leaned into her. "My chest hurts," he confessed.

Grace helped him lie back on the bed, pulling his boots off and smoothing his hair back from his face. He was pale and clammy. "Kreacher!" she yelled, and immediately, an ancient house elf appeared by the bed. His eyes widened when he saw his master's wounds. "Master Regulus is hurt?" he whispered.

Grace nodded. "Go get some poultices from the kitchen; he's too weak, I'm afraid to try to heal them with magic."

"I'm fine," Regulus grumbled, clearly not appreciating being treated as a weakling. When Grace turned and raised an eyebrow, he sighed. "Oh, all right, then. Do as she says, Kreacher, please."

The house elf nodded before vanishing into thin air. Grace frowned at her husband, using her sleeve to wipe some of the sweat sheen from his forehead. "I don't understand why you're so polite to him," she observed. "He's just a house elf; he has to follow any order you give him anyway."

"He has feelings, just as you and I do, Grace," Regulus replied, his eyes closed.

Grace rolled her eyes. "He's an ugly little creature. And what do you care about his feelings for? You've no problem making other human beings subservient to you."

Regulus' hand shot out to grab her wrist, and his grey eyes flew open. "You will mind your tongue," he said sharply. "I will not have a wife who questions my every move."

Grace looked away, ashamed. Thankfully, Kreacher reappeared an instant later, and she busied herself with applying poultices to her husband's wounds. He kept his eyes closed the entire time, and Grace knew that he didn't want to talk. Leaving Kreacher to give his master a Sleeping Potion, she swept down the hallway into the library. She sat in silence for a very long time, thinking. Regulus had never been short with her before. As her husband, he had every right to speak to her however he pleased, but it was so unlike him that it made her pause. Perhaps she had hit a nerve? Maybe he had realized the discrepancy between the kind way he treated his house elf and the murderous urges that sent him and his fellow Death Eaters to pick fights with the Order. It wasn't until she knew that the Sleeping Potion had taken effect that Grace returned to her room. She curled up beside her husband in the bed, wondering what he was dreaming about.


	8. Kreacher's Task

"Kreacher!"

Regulus swept into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place a week later, his traveling cloak still around his shoulders. The small elf hurried over to his master. "Yes, Master Regulus?"

Grace, who had been coming down the stairs, heard her husband talking excitedly in the kitchen and decided to investigate. She rounded the corner just as he was saying, "-a great honor, Kreacher, that the Dark Lord chose you. It means he can trust our family. I want you to go and complete whatever task he gives you and then return here. Can you do that for me?"

Kreacher's eyes watered with tears of joy. "Yes, Master Regulus! Kreacher would be proud to serve the Black family. Kreacher loves Master Regulus!"

"Thank you, Kreacher. Go ahead and leave now, we don't want to keep the Dark Lord waiting," Regulus said, nodding.

Kreacher sniffed and disappeared with a _crack_. Regulus turned around to see his wife in the doorway. "What was that about?" she asked, walking up to him and turning him around to rub his shoulders. He sighed and relaxed into her hands. "Something great has happened," he said, excitement making his voice quaver. He paused, and Grace waited for him to continue. "The Dark Lord has entrusted me with a task. He asked for the use of _our_ house elf, the Black house elf!"

"For what?" she asked.

He turned to face her, his eyes glittering with ambition. She had forgotten that Regulus was a Slytherin, after all, and had a grasping, cunning side. "What does it matter? The Dark Lord trusts me enough to ask for my help! Grace, this is an honor!"

She nodded. "I suppose."

Regulus made a face at her, as if to convey his disgust at her lack of enthusiasm. "I'm going to tell my parents," he said brusquely. "I'll see you in the drawing room once you've got your head on straight." He walked out of the kitchen.

Grace stuck her tongue out at the doorway, feeling childish but not caring. She couldn't understand what about the task had Regulus so excited, but decided it was for the best to at least act happy, for his sake. Leaving the kitchen, she promptly forgot about Kreacher's disappearance.

* * *

CRACK!

Walburga jumped in her rocking chair, stabbing herself in her index finger with the needle she was using to patch a hole in her husband's shirt. Kreacher had Apparated directly into the drawing room, and his hunched form was curled up on the carpet. He was shaking violently, water dripping from the tips of his bat-like ears and his long nose.

At Walburga's scream, Regulus and Orion stormed into the drawing room, wands raised, quickly followed by Grace. When he noticed the house elf on the floor, Regulus rushed forward. "Kreacher! What happened?"

Kreacher looked up at his beloved master, shivering. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come home," he whispered.

Regulus, sensing that the elf wanted to tell him something in private, stood to his feet. "Out," he ordered sharply, and his parents and wife obeyed, filing out of the room. When the door had closed behind them, Regulus turned to Kreacher. "Tell me what happened," he demanded, his voice dangerously low. "Why are you wet? Did the Dark Lord hurt you?"

Kreacher sat up and began his tale.

* * *

Regulus sat up late into the night, propped up against the giant mahogany headboard of the bed he shared with his wife. Grace was sleeping peacefully, curled up close to him in a blind search for warmth. He smiled, tenderly brushing a brown curl away from her face. She gave a whimper and shifted closer to him.

He looked out the window of his bedroom, watching the full moon rise and then slowly begin to set along its pre-determined path. Kreacher had told him of the task he had taken part in for the Dark Lord, told him all about how Voldemort had abandoned him and left him to die. Regulus frowned. He didn't want to serve a master who saw no harm in slaughtering an innocent house elf for his own gain. The Death Eaters, too, had become bolder and less discriminate in their killings. There was too much death. Regulus had joined the Dark Lord in the hopes of preserving his way of life, of guaranteeing the continuation of pureblood supremacy. He had not joined to become a murderer.

And now he knew Voldemort's secret. There was a way to destroy him now, to ensure that the Chosen One that the Mudbloods were always talking about would actually be able to vanquish him. But was he brave enough to carry out his plan? Surely he couldn't ignore the valuable information Kreacher had so willingly divulged that afternoon.

He looked back down at his wife, drinking in her beauty. He knew he had not always been kind to her, and she had not always shown him the respect he deserved, but there was love between them. It was a better marriage than most purebloods could ever dream of. He would have to give her up, for the good of the cause. He couldn't abandon the Death Eaters; the Mark on his arm would never come off. He had scrubbed at it that afternoon with his fingernails until his entire arm was raw and bleeding. The black skull seemed to taunt him as it continued to stare out at him from beneath his skin. Grace hadn't said anything when she saw what he had done, just smoothed a soothing cream over it and wrapped it with a clean bandage. He loved her for that. She had learned not to question him; she simply took care of him and made sure he was happy.

His only regret was that he hadn't managed to get a child on her. He had failed in his main duty to his family by not providing the next male heir. But Grace was still young; she could marry again. There weren't many purebloods he would trust to take care of her, though. Tradition stated that the deceased's brother step in and care for his widow, but Sirius would want nothing to do with a pureblooded wife of a Death Eater, even if she was his sister-in-law. Regulus sighed. He had a feeling that his way of life was quickly vanishing, anyway; perhaps Grace would be able to live out her days in peace. He would have to find a way to ensure that she was protected after he was gone; she didn't deserve to suffer for his sins. Bellatrix, definitely, must be kept away. She liked to play with her food before she ate it, and Regulus shivered at the thought of what she would do to the family when she found out it had produced yet another blood traitor.

As dawn drew closer, Regulus laid down beside his young wife, wrapping an arm securely around her slender hips and drawing her close. He buried his nose in her hair, drinking in the smell of honeysuckle and the rose water she splashed on her neck every morning. Closing his eyes, he wished fervently for the courage to do what he knew had to be done, for the good of the wizarding world- purebloods and Mudbloods alike. Voldemort had to be stopped, and he, Regulus, was willing to lay down his life in the attempt.


	9. The Ultimate Sacrifice

Grace stirred under the covers, woken by the sound of a quill scratching against parchment. She sat up, running a hand through her curls and peering across the room. Regulus was sitting in his chair by the window, wearing nothing but his trousers and boots, and frowning as he wrote. Early morning sunshine was pouring in through the open window, making his dark hair look glossy as a raven's wing. He heard her sit up, and looked up from his work, smiling. "Good morning, love."

"Morning." Grace slipped out of bed and crossed the room on bare feet. Regulus quickly folded up the parchment he was holding and slipped it into his trousers pocket. He sat back in his chair, allowing his wife to clamber into his lap, curling up against his bare chest. He kissed her brown curls and wrapped his arms around her, sighing.

"What's wrong?" Grace mumbled into his shoulder. "You're up so early."

Regulus didn't answer, choosing instead to kiss her temple and murmur, "I love you, Gracie."

Grace sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck and frowning into his grey eyes. "You're acting strange."

He shook his head. "It's nothing for you to worry about, darling. I promise." When she raised an eyebrow, he laughed and kissed her nose. "I told you I would never ask you to become involved in what I do."

"Is it something for the Dark Lord?" she asked, running her fingertips along the edges of the bandage still wrapped around his arm where he had tried to scrub off the Dark Mark.

His face darkened. "Sort of."

She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, knowing not to press the issue. "Be careful?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

Regulus stiffened, but continued to stroke her hair. "As much as I can be," he promised. He sat back and placed his hands on either side of her pale cheeks, admiring her dusting of freckles. He wanted to kiss every mark on her body, memorize every curve, every dimple, every smooth expanse. He kissed her gently, and she responded. Not wanting their last time together to be rushed, he stood up, holding her against his body with his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He laid her down on the bed and began kissing her skin. Not able to tell her goodbye with words, he made sure to tell her with his touch.

An hour later, he kissed her cheek as she dozed, her back turned to him as he knelt over her. He stood, dressing silently and sitting on the edge of the bed to pull his boots on. He slipped on his robes and left the room, not looking back over his shoulder for fear that he would lose his resolve.

He walked into the kitchen, thankful that his parents weren't awake yet. When Kreacher saw him, the elf gave a squeal of surprise. "Master Regulus!" he cried, bowing so low that his nose touched the flagstones.

Regulus smiled kindly down at him. "Kreacher, I need your help."

Kreacher looked ready to cry again, but Regulus stopped him. "Don't get all emotional on me, I need you to have a good head on your shoulders. This is very important. Do you remember how to get to the cave that the Dark Lord took you to yesterday?" Kreacher nodded, and he continued. "Take me there."

Kreacher gave his master a strange look but reached out to grasp his arm, Disapparating with a loud crack. Regulus found himself on a steep cliff face, the smell of sea salt strong on the air. He didn't know for sure where he was, but that was for the best. Only he, Kreacher, and the Dark Lord need ever know about this place. Kreacher led him to a spot in the cave wall. "The wall only opens with blood," Kreacher told him.

Regulus nodded. The Dark Lord would have wanted to weaken any prospective thieves before they entered the cave. He wasn't about to ask Kreacher for his blood, though. He pulled a knife from his boot and sliced his palm open, hissing in pain. If this was how he reacted to a small cut, what would happen later? He shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts. He smeared his bloody palm across the rocks, and watched in amazement as an archway formed in the cave wall. Kreacher led him along a dark beach to a spot at the far end, where a tiny boat was anchored in the cove. The boat had been bewitched to only allow one adult human to cross the water- but the Dark Lord had underestimated Regulus' cunning. Kreacher didn't count. While Regulus would be unable to Disapparate within the boundaries of the cave, Kreacher had already proven that he was capable of escaping. Regulus clambered down into the boat, followed by the elf, and they began to glide across the dark water immediately. Regulus knew better than to look into the lake; he knew what lay beneath the surface.

When the boat docked on a tiny island in the middle of the lake, he followed Kreacher to a stone basin. It was filled with a green liquid- the Drink of Despair. The only way to empty it was to drink the potion. Peering inside, he could see it- Salazar Slytherin's locket, the greatest pureblood heirloom in the wizarding world, lay at the bottom of the basin. But this locket was even more special because of the magic it had absorbed. The Dark Lord had turned it into a Horcrux- a very powerful piece of magic that preserved a piece of the wizard's soul inside an object- in this case, the locket. Voldemort was making sure that even if he met death on the battlefield, he would never truly die. The piece of his soul in the locket would live on, and he could regain his body and return to his reign of terror. It was this eventual reappearance that Regulus wanted to stop.

He looked down at Kreacher. "Listen, we're going to exchange that locket with the one I have here." He pulled a similar locket from his pocket; he had stolen it from Grace's jewelry box the night before. He had also placed a note inside, in case the Dark Lord ever discovered the switch. Dangling the necklace in front of him, he gave Kreacher a stern look. "You will take the locket that is in this basin and destroy it, do you understand? That is very important. It is a Horcrux; it will be very difficult to get rid of, but _you must do it_. Okay?"

Kreacher bobbed his head, wringing his hands. "Master Regulus-"

Regulus held up a hand to stop him. "I know what I'm doing. It must be done. Now, I'm going to drink the liquid in the basin. I know it made you sick, which is why I'm going to take it. You need to be able to get out of here. Make sure I drink it all, okay?"

Kreacher nodded, looking miserable.

Regulus pushed up his sleeves and reached for the crystal goblet sitting beside the basin. "This was pure genius," he admitted. "This kind of protection- but he hadn't counted on someone willing to die, did he?" He was muttering to himself. He looked down at Kreacher again. "No matter what happens, you must make sure that I drink all of it. Exchange the lockets, and go home. Do not try to save me. I know what will happen. Tell Grace-" He paused, a lump burning in his throat. No, it was safer for his family not to know what had happened to him. "Don't tell them anything," he hissed. "Nothing, Kreacher. It's better that way."

"But, Mistress Walburga, Mistress Grace…Master Sirius-" Kreacher's eyes filled with tears.

Regulus looked away. "Sirius doesn't need to know either. He thinks I'm a terrible, pureblooded maniac like the rest of them." He instinctively covered the Mark on his arm with his hand. "I guess I am."

"No, Master Regulus-"

"Don't tell anyone anything, Kreacher. This has to be done. Do as I say."

Kreacher nodded, trembling as his master dipped the goblet into the green potion. Regulus considered the full goblet for only a moment before pinching his nose and downing the potion in one gulp. Immediately, his insides began to burn.

He dipped the goblet in the basin a second time, drinking the second cupful a little slower than he had the first. He started to feel an irrational fear as he filled the goblet a third time, his hands trembling. After the third gobletful, he collapsed to his knees.

Kreacher did as his master had asked, re-filling the goblet and forcing him to drink. Regulus was hallucinating. His shouts of agony echoed against the cave walls as he cried out for Grace, for his mother, for Sirius. He tried to curl into the fetal position, but Kreacher held him down, pouring another gobletful down his throat. Regulus wanted to die. He had never imagined this kind of pain; it burned his very soul. He thrashed about blindly, yelling for Grace, desperately trying to find water to soothe his burning thirst. He didn't notice that Kreacher had managed to pull the Horcrux out of its hiding place. The elf put the chain around his neck and left Grace's locket in the basin. Immediately, green liquid seemed to seep out of the stone, filling it back up with the Drink of Despair.

Inferi were crawling out of the dark water and advancing on Regulus' prone form. The Inferi were reanimated corpses, used by the Dark Lord to guard the locket. They remained hidden under the glassy surface of the lake until someone drank the potion guarding the Horcrux. Regulus had crawled to the edge of the lake, desperately trying to get a drink of water, and the Inferi quickly grabbed hold of his robes. Kreacher cried out as Regulus was dragged under the surface, thrashing about in an instinctual attempt to survive. The Inferi were too strong, however, and as the cold lake water filled his lungs, the last thing he saw was the image of Grace's sleeping form, curled up beside him as he stroked her brown curls. God, how he loved her. He should have said it again, one last time before he left...

Kreacher tried to help his master, but his need to obey was too strong. He Disapparated, sobbing as Regulus was dragged beneath the water. He appeared in the kitchen cupboard where he slept, and hid the Horcrux underneath his moldy blankets. He would destroy it, for his brave master.

_To the Dark Lord,_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it_

_was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to_

_destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your_

_match, you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B._

__**A/N: Poor Regulus. :'( And poor Grace, not knowing! There will be one more chapter, though, darlings.  
**


	10. The End of the House of Black

Grace couldn't stop herself from checking the clock above the mantle every few seconds, despite the mending in her lap that she was supposed to be working on. Walburga Black rolled her eyes in disdain. "Would you stop doing that, girl?"

Grace bit her lip, looking down at her work. It was ten o'clock at night. Where was Regulus?

When she had awoken that morning, he was gone. She was worried; he hadn't seemed very enthusiastic about the task he was supposed to do for the Dark Lord. She hoped he was safe.

Hours passed, and Grace finally had to admit defeat, putting her work away when her vision became blurry. She climbed the stairs, holding onto the banister and hoping Regulus would hurry home and climb into bed with her- the nights were getting colder as autumn progressed.

Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Finally, Grace and her in-laws were forced to admit that Regulus was gone. Bellatrix- the obvious suspect in Regulus' disappearance- had looked bewildered when questioned about her cousin's whereabouts. No one seemed to know what had happened. Grace withdrew into herself, shutting herself up in her room and refusing to see anyone. Less than a year after Regulus' disappearance, Orion passed away. Walburga took the losses of her husband and youngest son very badly. She was inconsolable, and Grace often heard her wandering the dark hallways of Grimmauld Place at night, crying out for her husband and sons.

* * *

The depressing monotony at Grimmauld Place was broken three years later. Narcissa Malfoy burst in the door, her pale hair flying wildly behind her. She stopped in the drawing room, facing her aunt, bending over in an attempt to catch her breath. The commotion was enough to draw Grace out of her room, and she came slowly down the stairs as Walburga stared at her niece in shock. "What is it, Cissy?" Grace asked softly. "Is it Regulus? Have they-?" A tiny bubble of hope began to rise in her chest, but it burst at Narcissa's next words.

"No," she said quickly, gasping. "It's Sirius."

Walburga returned to staring blankly at the floor, as she had ever since Regulus had disappeared. Grace frowned. "Sirius?"

"The Dark Lord is destroyed!" Narcissa cried. "Dead! Gone! My God, what will we do?"

Walburga looked up. "What are you talking about?" she demanded. "And what does my son have to do with the Dark Lord?"

"A baby!" Narcissa gasped, trying to form complete sentences. "The Potters' boy."

Grace's heart stopped at the familiar name. "Potter? James Potter?"

"James is dead, his wife, too," Narcissa explained, waving her hand impatiently. "The Dark Lord finally found their hiding place. But the baby- the baby survived! He survived the Killing Curse! It rebounded, and instead of that little brat dying, the Dark Lord is gone!" She collapsed into a chair, drained of her energy.

Grace hurried to kneel before her. "What about Sirius?"

Narcissa sat up, her eyes gleaming. "They're blaming him! Saying he came over to our side, saying he sold the Potters to Voldemort! Maybe he thought that by delivering them up as a sacrifice, he would be welcomed into our circle. But now the Dark Lord is gone and the circle is broken! It didn't do him any good. And- he killed Pettigrew. Blew him up in the middle of the street in broad daylight, took out thirteen Muggles, too!"

Grace sat back on her heels. "What?" She remembered how close Sirius and Potter had been in school- they were always together, and some even whispered that they looked more like brothers than Sirius and Regulus. "Why would someone think he sold them out?"

"Pettigrew cornered him," Narcissa said excitedly. "Started yelling to the whole street that it was his fault, thank you very much. Sirius killed him for it. He's been arrested; he's on his way to Azkaban right now!"

Walburga gave a shriek of despair upon hearing the name of the infamous wizarding prison. The fortress was on an island, far out to sea, and was guarded by dementors- creatures that seemed to suck the very happiness out of the air. Most inmates went crazy within a few months. If Sirius was being held there, there was no hope of redemption.

The two women stared at Narcissa wordlessly. She looked rather put out that they weren't excited by the news. "The Dark Lord is gone, you fools!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "Aren't you afraid? What will we do without his protection? The Mudbloods can now take their revenge on us for the genocide we've been waging against them for the last ten years. Wake up!"

"…Azkaban," Walburga murmured. Narcissa rolled her eyes, unable to comprehend why the family was more concerned about their disowned, blood traitor son than the loss of the greatest wizard of all time.

"Fine," she snapped, heading for the door. "I've just brought you the biggest news of the century and all you do is sit here like a couple of idiot goblins." She disappeared around the corner, and Grace heard the door snap shut behind her.

She and Walburga sat in the drawing room until the sun set, not looking at each other, each with their own thoughts. Grace felt an immense sadness for her mother-in-law. Sirius was officially gone; she had no one left. The two women grieved in silence, fully aware that their world would never be the same again.

**A/N: I'm thinking about continuing this story with a second installment. Please review and tell me what you think. I hope you enjoyed the story of Grace and Regulus' short-lived but loving marriage! I have been so surprised and pleased with the interest in this story! Thank you all so much!**


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